


drown a wasted life

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Assassination Attempt(s), Bruce Wayne is Trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Court of Owls, Dark Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Family Bonding, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Mind Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Dick Grayson, Not Beta Read, Reunions, Selective Amnesia, Sort Of, eventually, re-learning to be a person, the court of owls are bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: “▒▒▒▒,” Raven intoned, as they walked.He didn’t respond, because he wasn’t sure he needed to.She seemed a little frustrated when he didn’t say anything, though.“Robin,” She tried, this time.He stopped walking, hit with a wave of déjà vu and a painful memory of his mother smiling at him, followed by confusion and somethingdarkat the Ravenknowingthat name. The ground beneath them rippled, like water disturbed.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140





	drown a wasted life

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what this is, it kind of came out of nowhere and I wrote it in two sittings
> 
> It is
> 
> The _longest_ oneshot I have _ever_ written

Talon knew very little.

Let him rephrase.

Talon knew very little _about himself._

Talon knew he was the Talon of the Court of Owls. He knew he was a full-grown man. He knew he was trained to kill with ruthless efficiency, and that there must be more to his life than what he was aware of. There must be more to him.

He didn’t get much time to think of it, normally. The Court sent him after so many targets he may as well be on his feet twenty-four hours a day. He was always on the move, always going for new blood.

But sometimes, when he was leaving to hunt, or returning from a hunt, his unstimulated mind began to wander. Train rides and flights were long and boring, with none of the thrill and adrenaline and pounding hearts of a hunt. There was little to occupy him and he wasn’t allowed a phone or any personal items like books. So his mind would wander, and he would think.

He would scour his empty brain for anything. A flash of something different, of something other than inky black.

Sometimes he saw a glow, off in the distance. Soft, blue. He reached for it and reached for it but it never came any closer, or if it did, never close enough. He knew it must be something from Before he was Talon. He knew there was a before.

He had hazy, far-off memories of his Before, but nothing that told him anything useful. Everything he remembered was either too hazy or too long ago to be remembered clearly. The memories of a child.

A child in the circus.

A child with two loving parents.

A child whose mother called him ‘little Robin’.

But there was very little else until his training as Talon. An occasional flash of color, a smell that was familiar or a voice that was just too close for comfort to something he thought might be what other people called “comfort”.

Talon didn’t feel particularly much. There was a cold, deep, _old_ anger in his bones, a weariness he could never shake, and the exhilaration of a kill, but… Very little else. Or very little that he understood or had a name for. He knew there was a warmth when he thought of his parents, let himself replay those yellow-tinged memories. A warmth, but also a sort of aching. He knew that when he saw the sweeping of a cape or cloak there was a similar sort of warmth, and a similar sort of aching, but also that cold anger.

He didn’t understand feelings and emotions as other people described them.

He wasn’t taught to.

The Talon didn’t need to feel to kill.

He need only know how to follow orders.

And he followed them unquestioningly, as he was trained, but it still did not stop his mind from wandering when it got the chance.

Gold eyes flicked, ears picking up a heartbeat and he knew he had his target in his sights. The swish of her cloak around her as she walked made that coldness spark up, and with the exhilaration of knowing he was in for a fight―she was a hero, she had _powers,_ he could _play_ with her―he couldn’t resist a giddy shudder. Oh, this would be fun. So fun.

Shame that she looked so familiar.

He’d probably feel bad if he could experience guilt in a way he understood.

He dropped down, already withdrawing a blade as he landed and charged her. She reacted faster than he expected, turning to face him and jumping out of his way. He almost laughed, when her heart sped up and her eyes widened at the sight of his helm. But he didn’t. He was a professional.

“The Court of Owls,” He said, calmly, “Has sentenced you to death.”

She blinked in terror, heart racing in her chest, and then she was throwing up a magical barrier and tossing what seemed to be a couple of shadow-doused projectiles at him. He did laugh, then, dodging with ease and slamming _hard_ into the barrier. He’d been briefed, sort of, on what she was like. What she could do.

The Raven was a formidable foe… But she would not make it out of this alive if he’d been briefed correctly.

She yelped at his impact on the barrier, especially when he only laughed and adjusted himself, shaking out his shoulders as he prepared to charge again. If he could distract her, even for a moment…

 _“Hood!”_ She yelled, suddenly, even as her barrier cracked under his next impact with it.

He spared a half-second to wonder what she was doing, who she was calling for, but in vain―the next moment another form was slamming into him full-force. Knocking him aside and going with him. And that was their mistake. He landed on his back and he was far from thrown off by it. He sank the knife in his hand deep into their side and they half-cried out even as he was kicking them off and reorienting himself on Raven.

He spared a glance toward the other as they rolled onto their feet.

The Red Hood?

He was unaware Hood worked with Raven.

Oh, well.

… Two birdies with one stone, perhaps?

The Court had never minded a little collateral damage before, after all.

He flung himself at Raven and her broken barrier and she only barely managed to escape being stabbed. Hood was after him again, and Raven was flinging more projectiles his way.

It was the best fight he’d had. Ever.

He didn’t feel much, as Talon, and never had, but the adrenaline this was giving him was something so perfect, so _distinct._ This felt good. Familiar, even, even if that was a little… Concerning, he supposed. But overall, it didn’t matter. This was good. He liked this.

He flitted out of the way of each attack they threw his way, and it wasn’t as if he was the only one in danger. Hood was bleeding heavily, stabbed and slashed when he got too close to Talon, and Raven had so far managed to avoid any _serious_ injury. But she was bleeding too. Talon was the only one who wasn’t.

He was good at that.

He ducked under another of Hood’s swings, taking a chance and staying close long enough to plunge the blade into that soft, unprotected underarm area. Hood gave the closest thing he had yet to a yelp, body jerking away. That seemed to have been the ticket all along, because now he seemed horribly distracted.

Talon would use that.

He weaved easily between Raven’s attacks, and then he was rushing her. Plunging his blade into her unprotected side and she almost _screamed._

It sounded so nice. So pretty.

He’d scarcely removed the knife before Hood was on him again.

This time, when they hit the ground, Hood was still completely in control of his own body and momentum. He had also landed with his knees pinning Talon’s biceps, which was smart. Talon knew it was a hold he could break out of, though―no threat of pain would hold him down. Pain was hardly even a distraction. It had little meaning to him.

He was prepared to twist already, before being on the ground, being pinned, truly processed.

He was starting to twist. Starting to work his body free to get back to his job. Maybe even end the fun early and kill Hood as soon as he was free.

But Hood was grabbing his head as he started to twist. And then he was slamming it into the concrete, and Talon was trained for a lot of things, but… Head trauma wasn’t one of them. He had a brief moment of terror, _real_ terror, what he _knew was terror,_ and then his world started to go black.

He was conscious long enough, _fought_ for consciousness long enough, for Hood to rip his helm off. He could see the raised hand holding a gun, preparing to pull the trigger he was _sure._ Hood wasn’t known for his mercy particularly when his own life had been threatened.

Was this how Talon would die?

It seemed fitting―gone in the line of duty. An honorable way to go. Something that even the Court would appreciate and honor him for. He’d done the best he could and was overwhelmed.

And yet, in that final moment before everything went black, before the shadows at the edge of his vision overtook everything, he saw Hood’s hand hesitate. Heard him gasp. Heard Raven gasp.

_“▒▒▒▒?”_

The Raven spoke it, whatever word it was that she spoke. But his eyes rolled back in his head and even the distorted sound of her repeating it, now frantic, faded out without further delay. The last thing he wondered with any conscious coherency was if her frantic tone was _for_ him or _because_ of him… Or both?

* * *

The odd thing about being unconscious was that it never stopped him from thinking. It just made it… A little different.

When conscious he tended to call his mind empty, full of blackness―unconscious, this was doubly true. Unconscious, he had a clear mindscape laid out before him, obvious and even explorable. He could wander as he pleased―consciousness, control of the body, was like a screen hung in the air for him. Though he hadn’t been trained to fight passing out after being hit hard enough in the head, he sort of instinctively knew how to regain consciousness. All he had to do was interact with that screen.

But the rest of his mind was open for exploration.

Right now, he chose not to move. To simply stare at the dark screen and wait.

Surely Hood intended to kill him?

Talon saw himself staring back through his reflection on the screen. Saw golden eyes and a blank face. Didn’t care enough to look closer―only cared that he would probably soon be dying. Wondered if he could fight it if he just regained consciousness.

Was it worth it to try?

He approached the screen. Touched the cold surface with intent only to watch or listen, not become fully conscious. Just enough to see and hear what was going on.

 _“― not_ **_him_ ** _anymore, Rae.”_ Hood was saying, _“What if there’s nothing we can do?”_

 _“There always_ **_something_ ** _we can do!”_ Raven protested, _“Maybe I can get in there and figure something out.”_

Hood sighed, somewhere off to his side. He sounded exasperated, but worried too. Odd.

… Were they talking about _Talon?_

 _“And if there really isn’t anything we can do? If he’s gone forever and it’s just this― This_ **_thing_ ** _walking around in his skin?”_

Raven sighed, this time, softly. _“If that’s the case, I’ll let you kill him. It’s what he would want.”_

 _“Fine,”_ Said Hood, but he still didn’t sound happy.

Guess they _were_ talking about him, then. Were they from his Before? Did they know him? They must have, if they were so sure he’d want them to kill him for this.

But he really didn’t have much intention of dying if they weren’t going to kill him right now.

There was silence for a moment, and then the Raven was melting up out of the shadows on the ground. Talon blinked at her, cocking his head. He hadn’t been aware she could do this. He guessed that the Court wouldn’t think it was pertinent information, given that he was supposed to be killing her.

“▒▒▒▒?” She asked, blinking right back at him.

“You’re free to look around,” He told her, ignoring that he was _sure_ that was the same thing she’d been saying when he lost consciousness. If she was here to try and figure things out, then by all means he’d let her. Anything she found, _he_ found. “But you won’t find anything.”

Her eyes went hard, “How do you know that?”

“My head,” He shrugged, unable to fight the sardonic grin, “The Court of Owls doesn’t take chances. But, again, you’re free to look. I just hope you enjoy disappointment.”

The was the sound, in the waking world, of Hood shifting around. Talon glanced toward the still-dark screen. Looked back to Raven.

“Really. Do try.”

“Why would you just _let_ me if you’re conscious enough to be here?” She asked, brow furrowing. “Shouldn’t you be trying to stop me?”

“Maybe,” He shrugged again, still grinning, “But what’s the point? Anything you can find is more than I have.” He motioned around, “They cleared the place out, as you can see.”

She did glance around, then, and only looked more concerned. But then she looked determined, instead, and turned to walk into the darkness.

Figuring he didn’t have anything better to do than observe her, since Hood didn’t seem to be getting up to much, he went ahead and followed her. Went right at her heels with his hands behind his back and his head cocked to the side as she swept easily over the flat, dark ground. It wasn’t terribly obvious when he was in the waking world, he supposed, but he was a rather curious sort. _Especially_ about his Before.

“▒▒▒▒,” Raven intoned, as they walked.

He didn’t respond, because he wasn’t sure he needed to.

She seemed a little frustrated when he didn’t say anything, though.

“Robin,” She tried, this time.

He stopped walking, hit with a wave of déjà vu and a painful memory of his mother smiling at him, followed by confusion and something _dark_ at the Raven _knowing_ that name. The ground beneath them rippled, like water disturbed. Raven paused, glancing at him, and he stared back. Frowned.

“▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒?”

That one was different than the other one she’d said―longer. Still incomprehensible to him. Was she trying to say his _name?_ Was he just incapable of understanding or processing his name from Before?

“Talon.” He said, firmly. “... Whoever I was before may have responded to… Whatever names you just said. But I am Talon.”

She frowned, but seemed to consider that. “... Do you not understand it when I call you ▒▒▒▒?”

“Sounds like gibberish to me,” He said, conversationally, “Distorted, overlapping gibberish. Not that it matters―shouldn’t you keep looking?”

That got a deeper frown and a set of furrowed brows, but Raven turned away from him and kept walking.

“... I was going to ask you if you remembered anything at all,” She said, finally, “But I’m going to guess that’s a no.”

“Not anything that’d help _you.”_ He snorted in agreement.

“But you remember enough to remember _Robin?”_ She asked, seeming a little confused.

“My mom called me that,” He shrugged, putting his hands back behind his back and moving up to walk at her side instead of behind her, “I guess I must have used that for something else, later, though, if _you_ know it.”

“Your mom?” She glanced at him. “You remember her?”

“It’s hazy, but yeah.” No point lying, or being silent. She was here, he could wake up and kill her if he needed to, and she may yet be useful. “Some of the only memories I have.” He motioned at an area no less dark than the rest, but not flat like everything else. “They’re over there.”

The area was an obvious one―shaped like a circus tent. Which made sense, considering… You know. All of his memories took place either _in_ or around one. Raven followed his motion with her eyes, looking a little grim when she saw it.

“Do you remember what happened to her?”

Did he?

There was a flash of fire around his feet, the distant sound of distorted screaming. He shuddered and it all faded out. Raven looked like she felt sick.

He guessed he did remember, if only vaguely.

He remembered watching the tent burn and feeling a gnawing emptiness clawing his abdomen open.

Raven headed toward the tent-shape, and he went with her.

Beyond it, once they got to it, he could see that odd light in the distance. Soft, blue. And Raven seemed to see it too, because she started walking toward it. He went with her now, as well. She’d never reach it, but it would still be fun to watch her try. To wake himself up and kill her when she inevitably failed. Kill the Hood, too.

But, shockingly, the light got closer this time. Got closer as they moved. He felt… _Something._ Something not good. The ground rippled under his feet and there was a distinct, watery sound when the ripple hit a certain point.

… A lake.

He had a lake in his mind.

He guessed if the Court had buried anything, it would have been there. Submerged everything under the surface and forbade him from getting to it at all, let alone pulling it up. But he guessed, too, that Raven being here changed things.

Talon _might_ spare a moment to thank her before he killed her.

Raven didn’t even hesitate when she reached the water, just kept walking. Talon hesitated a little. But when she didn’t sink below the surface, he followed once more. Watched the soft ripples of their footsteps and saw… Shapes under the water. Nothing definite. Nothing he could comprehend.

Not until Raven stopped and he saw, beneath his feet, his own face.

“Of course it would be easy for you to find it,” Talon sighed, stepping back, “Have fun trying to get him out.”

She shot him a look, kneeling and― and plunging her hands beneath the surface. His Before blinked his eyes open at the disturbance, bright blue even through the gloom. Talon felt… Something not good.

His Before reached out to take Raven’s hand, and Raven dragged him to the surface.

The response wasn’t immediate. Everything was still and quiet for a moment and then, _then,_ there was a ripple of color. The lake turned bright white instead of black, and Talon realized, belatedly, that the blue light had been his Before. The circus tent behind him held color.

His Before looked at him, sad and seeming to understand completely who and what he was, which was more than Talon could say of his Before. He looked so small. Not at all how Talon saw himself, even Before.

“▒▒▒▒,” Raven said, relieved and maybe even joyous.

Talon’s lip curled in a snarl.

His Before shot her a look, seemed to force a smile.

Talon turned and headed back for the screen. Enough of this. He wanted the memories she’d dug up, but… He didn’t want _her._ And he didn’t want his Before to be something so… So very real. To be _him,_ just Before.

… Had he really had blue eyes?

His fingers touched the screen, and he was awake. He saw Raven gasp awake suddenly, off to his side, and saw Hood going very stiff.

Felt, not physically, someone wrap their hand around his wrist.

He was pulled back into his mind.

“Don’t,” Said his Before, when he could see him. “Not them.”

His mind, around him, was lit up with colors. There was so much more _here_ now. So many things that his Before had brought just by being here. Memories and feelings and _people_ that he knew but didn’t know.

“How will you stop me?” He asked.

His Before looked tired, at the question. Tired, like he didn’t want to fight. Like he just didn’t want to do anything.

“I can’t,” He admitted, “All I can do is ask.”

Talon thought, then. Let himself think and try to recall.

His Before gave a rueful smile and suddenly he was remembering.

There was so much―too much. But he held onto names. Held onto all of that _wonderful_ training that his Before had gotten. Latched onto pertinent information and let the rest fall away. He knew the Raven and the Hood. Understood why his Before would ask he leave them be. Understood why Raven had known about Robin.

The Raven was his mark, but… Well. If not from any real feelings for her, he supposed he could spare her as thanks.

He got the feeling he wouldn’t be listening quite so closely to the Court now anyway.

“Not them?” His Before asked, tiredly.

Talon considered it again. Nodded. “Not them.” He agreed.

He turned away from the screen. The lake was right behind it, now. Right there, next to the tent.

How much would go away when he put his Before back?

He dragged his Before to the water, deciding he didn’t care, and shoved him back in. And his Before went without putting up much of a fight. Just a sigh and an exhausted half-attempt to catch himself. But he went under and all the color in his mind faded right back out except for the soft, blue light of his Before. Right there. Easily accessible.

There was still a lot here. Just black and gray instead of brightly colored.

The lake was still white.

He moved back to the screen, breathing deep. Okay.

He needed to escape, but they’d never let him go if they knew he was Talon and not his Before.

“Dick?” Raven asked, when he blinked his eyes open again.

He focused on his Before the best that he could, and turned his gaze on her. Flexed and stretched a bit. Twisted and pushed himself up. Made sure to look confused.

“Thank God,” She said, and he heard her sag with relief. “Dick, you were―”

“I know.” He said, calmly. “I remember.”

There was silence, and the Hood was staring at him. He tried to look as tired as his Before had, in his head. Cocked his head. And… Jason. Hood’s name was Jason. _Jason_ seemed to relax a little.

Talon slowly got up, casting his eyes around for an escape. They were still in the alley. They hadn’t moved him or taken him somewhere more secure before they’d done this? How naive. But being in the alley meant there were _plenty_ of ways to get away… Especially with all that _other_ training his Before had had. He’d taken “acrobat” right up to a new level.

And Talon’s body _remembered._

He paced quietly to his helm, picking it up and considering it. From the corner of his eye he saw the other two watching him warily. Worriedly. He caught sight of his own eyes in a window facing the alley, in front of where his helm had been dropped, and he blinked a little at the sight of bright blue instead of gold. Examined his helm for a moment.

“... Dick?” Raven asked, softly, at the same moment Ho― _Jason―_ said, “Grayson?”

“What?” He asked in return, turning his gaze on them even as he readied himself to scramble up the side of the nearby fire escape and disappear into the night.

“Are you… Are you okay?” The Raven seemed hesitant.

“Never better,” Talon said, feeling his lips twitch up, “Thanks for all the help, darling corvid, but I’d better be off.” In his reflection, blue eyes flashed back to gold and lips stretched into a grin, “Places to go, people to kill, all that jazz.”

And before either of them could process or react, he pounced and shimmied his way on up the side of the fire escape. He was cresting over the top of the building when a shot rang out and he managed to avoid the bullet by a few inches at most. He couldn’t help cackling even as he pulled his helm back over his head and vanished into the night.

* * *

Remembering his Before was helpful, when dealing with the Court. His Before was a trained actor. Good at on-the-spot deception and lacking any guilt about it, especially now.

“The Raven was accompanied by the Bats,” He lied, smoothly, to the Court, with all the blankness they expected of their emotionless Talon, “I did attempt to dispose of her as ordered, but was unable to. She will likely be under constant protection now, however.”

“Very well,” The Court decided, after a long few moments, “You will be given a new target. Do not disappoint us again.”

“As you command.”

* * *

Talon had all the time and money in the world to simply do as he wished, particularly between hunts. He didn’t receive time limits and really only had orders not to own a phone or any real personal items aside from street clothes. They expected him to need to eat and sleep, and they funded him generously on top of whatever he could steal from his marks after he’d dealt with them. Some hunts took a very long time to complete.

The Court had sent him after some drug lord or another in Jump City, and he was going to be such an easy kill that Talon was purposely going out of his way to avoid killing him yet. He didn’t want to end the hunt, to have to go back to Gotham. Go back underground until the Court gave him another mark.

And, with his Before’s memories on his side to make him act like a _real person,_ he was quite enjoying running around and doing his own thing. The Court would never know, would never care if he took a little longer finishing a hunt after his last failure.

He would admit he may have gotten a little… Reckless, though.

He was so used to only being concerned with the Court that he didn’t think to cover his tracks. Didn’t stop to consider that the sudden emergence of Dick Grayson might attract a little attention from Dick’s old friends and family.

But, well, it did.

He was minding his own business, happily sipping at a coffee just the way his Before had liked it (and understanding at once why his Before had liked it that way) and just making the most of his time. He would probably kill the little drug lord tonight, and then make his way back to Gotham some time closer to the weekend. It would be fine―not great, not something his new interest in having _fun_ wanted, but _fine._

But then, Raven was there. Appearing out of nowhere and almost looking angry as she slid into the seat across from him.

He gave her a raised eyebrow, but that was as far as he got before she spoke.

“Why did you spare me?” She demanded―a far cry from what he’d expected her to ask.

“Keep your voice down,” He advised, in reply. “Someone might take that the wrong way.”

“There’s not a wrong way to take it.” She retorted, powers flickering at her shoulders.

“Stay calm, little corvid,” He sighed, melodramatically, “Can’t answer you if you attack me.”

Her unimpressed glare told him she was listening, but not above beating the shit out of him with her hands. He wasn’t surprised. He remembered her, a bit. Not enough to form a connection where there didn’t need to be one, but enough to know what she was like. Her powers got out of control when her emotions did, and she would absolutely fight Dick hand to hand if she felt she needed to.

Too bad he wasn’t Dick.

“It’s simple, really,” He finally said, when she started to seem antsy, sitting back and sipping his drink, “You did me a service,” He explained, “A big one. Killing you is hardly the way to repay you for that. I owed you one.”

She blinked at him, like that wasn’t the answer she expected. “... And now you _don’t_ owe me,” She presumed, almost nervously.

“Nope. But you’re also not my mark, so…”

She furrowed her brows at that. “They just… Let it go? Then who _are_ you after right now?”

“They’re under the impression the Bats are guarding you closely,” He shrugged, “And I don’t think it’s any of your business who I’m here for.”

“I think it is,” She countered, “Since Jump City is _my_ city.”

“It is yours, isn’t it?” He mused, taking another sip of his drink, “I don’t recall it being that way―how long has _that_ been going on?”

“A year and a half,” She answered, seemingly without thinking, only to wince and then glare at him. “Don’t change the subject, Dick.”

“Talon,” He corrected perhaps too flatly, narrowing his eyes at her over the brim of his cup, “I’m not your precious little songbird, darling corvid.”

She took a moment to consider that, staring him down. He remembered enough to know she’d always had an intense stare. She could just _stare and stare_ and _never_ blink. She looked right through you, _into_ you.

“Talon,” She finally said, as if agreeing with him.

He nodded his approval, taking a drink.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t intend to.” He snorted, “And you can’t exactly _make_ me without causing a scene, anyway.”

Sighing, she seemed to accept that and crossed her arms as she sat back in her seat. She stared him down a moment longer before saying, “You know I can’t just _let_ you kill someone in my city.”

“You’re not going to ‘let’ me.” He snorted again, “You’ll only find out after the fact―unless you plan to tail me?”

“I may have to.”

He rolled his eyes, “Let it go, darling corvid.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

He laughed at the question, and the somewhat annoyed look on her face. Of course she would ask that―and perhaps the question would have some grounds with Dick. Not with Talon. He didn’t know what exactly she was _expecting_ him to call her. Maybe her name? But, no. He didn’t know her personally. Only Dick did.

And he found he had a certain… Preference, he supposed, for calling people by nicknames. Especially her. Even before he’d remembered his Before he’d latched onto calling people (the few he spoke to) anything but their real name.

“Legal names are overrated.” He answered, succinctly, and her expression went rather sour in response.

“So you just use nicknames.”

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer it. He just grinned at her.

“I suppose you don’t call Jason by his name either?”

“I haven’t spoken to him in person since the night I spared the two of you, but no. Bluejays are corvids, too, though.”

“Are they?” That seemed to perplex her, and he couldn’t help his amusement at having stumped her with fairly simple trivia.

“Sure are,” He sat forward, draining the last of his coffee as he grinned at her. “Now, it’s been great talking, but I have things to do.”

He tossed his empty cup at her, watching her fumble to catch it and using the distraction to ease himself into the passing crowd.

* * *

He ran into Bruce entirely on accident, and he blamed himself for the mistake. It was, again, a case of simply not watching his back well enough. It had been almost six months, and he was _thriving_ when he wasn’t under the steely gaze of the Court. He was enjoying his freedom and, admittedly, was eternally grateful to Raven for helping him get it. He’d told her he didn’t owe her anymore, because he’d spared her once, but… Well…

Hm.

He guessed giving her an ongoing free pass from him killing her still counted as not owing her anymore.

Still, the point was, it had been six months. He’d come to understand that Dick had been missing for almost two years prior to that… The two years that Talon had been hunting. No one had known where he’d gone, and the general consensus was that he’d finally gotten himself killed by some sick bastard whose idea of rubbing it in was simply not giving them the closure that knowing whether he was dead or not would give. And he’d been careful, sort of―avoided doing too much out in public in Gotham, when he could. Tried to only let loose when he was far enough away from home that he could rest assured that either no one would recognize him, or no one would believe someone if they said they saw him.

But he’d walked out of a coffee shop, laughing to himself at the thought of the mark he’d chased down last night’s face when he killed them, and walked right into Bruce’s chest while he was distracted.

Bruce was still just as broad, as stony and unmoving, as he’d ever been.

Talon had impacted him, jerked away in surprise, and fallen right on his ass. He’d been prepared to sort of sarcastically apologize for not looking where he was going, fighting to keep enough control that his eyes would stay Dick’s baby blue, and the words had died in his throat before he even opened his mouth all the way. He blinked.

“Oh,” He’d said, weakly, because reasonably enough Bruce _scared_ him, “I― I am _so_ sorry, sir,” He’d scrambled to say, while Bruce stared down at him with equally wide eyes, “I wasn’t looking where I was going, I didn’t mean to―”

“Dick?” Bruce asked, cutting him off.

He was starting to miss the days when he couldn’t understand that name when it was spoken.

Instead of letting that show, he stopped talking and furrowed his brows, “I… Mr. Wayne, sir?”

“Dick Grayson,” Bruce specified, seeming to follow the thread of confusion.

He blinked up at him, “Do we know each other?” He hoped against hope he could sell the full amnesia story, convince Bruce he didn’t remember him at all. He had enough experience with genuinely _not_ knowing who Bruce was. “I― I’m sorry. I don’t remember… Were you a fan of Haly’s Circus?”

Bruce’s face fell, imperceptibly, “Once upon a time,” He said, voice a little rough, and offered a hand to help him up, “I… You don’t remember anything?”

He took the offered hand, letting Bruce haul him up onto his feet. Then he shook his head helplessly, “I― I woke up six months ago to find out I was twenty-three instead of twelve, so I’m… I’ve just been trying to skate by with what I have. Everything between then is a big black smear.”

Bruce’s face was grim. “... I understand. I don’t have near enough time to tell you everything you would need to know, but… If you want to know, you’re free to come to my Manor. Alfred would let you in without a second thought.”

He tried for a somewhat ashamed look, “... We were pretty close then, huh? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Bruce said, a little too forcefully, “It’s probably not anything you could have controlled.”

He managed to get through the rest of the interaction without slipping, and eventually Bruce left him be. He took a deep breath and wondered, to himself, why Jason hadn’t told Bruce who he was. Why Jason hadn’t mentioned he was around. Why _Raven_ hadn’t mentioned it. Were they trying to spare his feelings?

It seemed more likely than not.

He straightened himself out and started to walk away after checking his reflection to make sure he didn’t look overly disheveled, only to almost walk into someone else.

Jason stood before him, unimpressed and annoyed.

“Well aren’t _you_ just the perfect little actor?” He asked, voice dripping like acid.

Seeing as there was no point in pretending with Jason―he’d been there when the Talon became simply _Talon,_ after all―he rolled his eyes and let them settle back to gold. The way they were supposed to be.

“Oh, no need for the vitriol, darling corvid,” He remarked a little flatly, “What the old man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Jason didn’t seem any more impressed at that response than he had initially. “I think this is something that could hurt him a _lot,_ actually.”

“And you care _why?”_ He cocked a brow, then a hip as he sat his hand on it. “Do correct me if I’m wrong, but last I checked you _delighted_ in Bruce suffering a little bit. And, of _course,_ if you’re so worried about it, why not tell him yourself?”

“Wanting Bruce to feel some fucking _remorse_ is _not_ wanting him to suffer.” He snapped, “And making him feel that remorse is _not the same_ as what finding out you turned into a serial killer would do to him.”

“Better to let him think I’m a harmless little amnesiac then, isn’t it?” Talon waved his hand in dismissal, “So I don’t see the problem. It’s not as if I have any intention of turning up at the Manor to get a low-down on my old life. I’m plenty happy now, thanks.”

“Never thought I’d hear the golden boy claiming he was _happy_ being a serial killer.” He bit out.

“I’m not the golden boy.” Talon bit back, “I’d protest the serial killer part, but, well.” He flashed a dark grin, “By all technical definitions…”

“You are _unbelievable.”_

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a _compliment!”_

Talon only laughed, stepping around the younger boy and starting to make his way off down the road, “Sure it wasn’t.” He snickered, “You should catch up to your dad, darling corvid. Sure he’s wondering where you went.”

Jason spluttered, and he heard him starting to follow him down the sidewalk, so he did what anyone would do in his shoes―he stepped out into oncoming traffic and jogged his way through the cars until he hit the other sidewalk and ducked into an alleyway. He heard Jason yell, initially, but waiting in the alley for several minutes showed that the man hadn’t followed him.

So much for a _detective._

He snorted and found a roundabout way out of the alley and back toward his safehouse. He’d have to report in soon, anyway. Might as well go get changed and coach his emotions back down so he could give a full report to the Court.

* * *

Another two months passed before he ended up running into Bruce again.

This time was less his own fault and more because Jason had apparently given his location up to the guy. Tracked him down and told Bruce he’d seen him. And Talon heard him coming, was so attuned to those footsteps, that he was able to make it off as if he was worriedly sorting through his things at his safehouse―his Nest. Make it off like he was trying to organize and figure out how he was going to pay for rent and food. Even threw in some muttering while he checked the small stack of cash he kept on him.

“... Dick,” Bruce said, and he pretended to jump out of his skin in surprise. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Mr. Wayne,” He squeaked, “I’m sorry I haven't come to the Manor yet, I’m―”

“Don’t apologize,” Bruce cut him off, and Talon’s blood ran cold when he saw Damian and Tim trailing after the guy. “I’m sure you’re busy trying to make ends meet. Jason… Mentioned you seemed to be having trouble.”

“... Jason?” He asked, a little weakly.

Was that the story Jason was selling Bruce? That Talon was struggling and needed help? What, from the bottom of his heart, the _fuck_ did he hope to accomplish with that, exactly? Bruce loving Talon back into being Dick?

Ugh.

Un-fucking-likely.

“He would be your… Foster brother, technically,” Bruce said, carefully, “He’s been… Looking out for you, for me. I thought he might actually do that in person but clearly he’s been watching from a distance instead.”

Watching from a distance indeed. Talon had noticed him, sure, but… God.

But that at least explained why he was feeding Bruce that story. Telling him he was struggling was far preferable to telling him he was the Talon of the Court of Owls… For both of them. For Jason because it eased Bruce’s mind, and for Talon because he did _not_ want Bruce as an enemy.

Jason and Raven were one matter.

Bruce, Tim, and Damian were another entirely. Bruce scared him. Tim and Damian were _kids._

If he held any moral code now, as Talon, it was no raping and no killing kids.

Pretty bare-bones, but his job was murder, so…

“... Foster brother.” Talon said, slowly.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember Jay?” Asked Tim, brows furrowed. “... Or us?”

Talon made sure to look a little lost while he forced an uneasy smile.

Tim’s face fell, and Damian looked… Just slightly, _ever so slightly,_ disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Talon said, immediately, “My brain is such swiss cheese, I don’t―”

“Do not apologize to us, Grayson,” Damian said, “Clearly we are not the only things that you’ve forgotten. It would be childish to hold it against you.”

“If you say so, er…”

“Damian.”

“... Damian.”

“That aside,” Bruce cut in, reasonable as always, “I came to… Well. Offer some help.”

The man held out what seemed to be a checkbook, and Talon’s mouth went dry when he recognized the worn black material. That was Dick’s. Linked to a trust fund that Bruce had set up for him―a trust fund that, to date, Dick had never touched. Had never _needed_ to touch.

And it wasn’t as if Talon really needed the money, either. The Court paid him handsomely just for existing, not seeming to grasp how much food and board actually cost or simply not caring, but… Well. Dick hadn’t looked at the associated bank account in _years,_ not since he was sixteen, and the amount of money within had been formidable _then,_ so Talon could only imagine how much money Bruce had poured into it since then. It must be such a senseless pile of cash. More than he could do anything with.

… Which would make sense, in this situation. Bruce was giving him access to more money than he needed, money that legally already belonged to him, to make sure he didn’t keep struggling.

He carefully took the checkbook, furrowing his brows. “... Mr. Wayne, I…”

“It’s yours,” Bruce told him, “It always was. It’s only right that you have it.”

“Perhaps with it, you can find an apartment somewhere a little _less_ crime ridden?” Damian suggested, and got hit with two identical disbelieving and disapproving looks from Bruce and Tim. “What?” He asked, shrugging, “Is that not something most people _want?”_

He had to suppress a smile―a _real_ one, not faked at all―as he ducked his head a little and looked away. “... This _is_ kind of a sh― crappy neighborhood, huh?”

He managed to sort of waffle his way through the rest of the visit. When the others left, _finally,_ he sat his checkbook down on the table. He imagined Bruce would be watching the account to see if he was using it, which meant he might as well come up with a believable cover.

… Might as well get an actual apartment.

The Court didn’t say he couldn’t have a _real_ place to live instead of a broken down old house in the shitty part of town.

So he went apartment hunting the next day.

Jason tailed him the whole time, so near the end of the day, after he’d looked at a few places and had one or two in mind (and one he was fairly sure he would be moving into), he picked him out of the crowd and waved him over. Jason went a little pale, but grit his teeth and approached nonetheless.

“You’ll be reporting back to Bruce about me tonight, yes?” He asked, as soon as he was within range.

Jason huffed, crossing his arms and falling into step next to him. “Yes.”

“Great. Give him my new address, won’t you, bluebird?” He offered a scrap of paper with the apartment he was fairly sure of scrawled on it. “I’ll be heading that way to fill out papers in the morning.” A lie, which would be remedied in a moment, “And considering he handed me Dick’s trust fund without a second thought I should be moving in within the week.”

Jason pocketed the scrap of paper, looking more sad than angry for a moment. “So he’s really gone, huh?”

“In a manner of speaking,” He paused to crack his neck, “He’s still in here, somewhere, just… Sleeping.”

“But he’s not coming back,” Jason insisted, cocking his brows.

“Not if I have anything to say about it, no.” Talon snorted, “Then again, he seemed… Tired. Didn’t really fight it when I put him back to sleep after blackbird woke him up.”

Jason frowned again, but nodded.

Talon patted his shoulder, giving him a not-at-all sympathetic grin. “Don’t look so down, bluebird. You didn’t like him anyway.”

Jason shoved him away.

Which, fair.

He could only laugh.

* * *

He’d been in the apartment for three months when he finally severed connection with the Court.

They summoned him, after sending him home with no new targets, and he ignored the summons steadfastly. They would eventually send _someone_ after him, probably some poor mind controlled little fool, but it wouldn’t matter. Talon was better than anyone they could send. He’d been trained by two master acrobats, the Batman, Deathstroke, _and_ the previous Talon―he was a one man army. More so than he’d been before he’d become Talon, at least, because Dick was definitely still a one man army―Slade had ensured that very nicely.

It’d been roughly two weeks since he’d been on a hunt, at that point. It wasn’t exactly a long time, and it wasn’t something anyone was likely to notice. No one but Jason, who still insisted on stalking him at Bruce’s behest. If Jason had followed orders so well before, he’d never have died. It was kind of funny, really. And kind of… Sad.

Still.

He hadn’t been on a hunt in two weeks, and he was officially cutting himself off from the Court.

He loved being their Talon, don’t get him wrong.

He just didn’t love the way they made him do it. He wanted to be Talon, but like… Full-time and without the emotionless requirements. He wanted to be Talon, but _his_ way. Not theirs. And since, with the Court, it was often very “my way or the highway”, he was making the personal choice to take the highway.

The worst thing they could do was try to appoint a new Talon, and honestly? He’d probably kill the poor bastard as soon as they made their debut.

“This place looks like a fucking _museum.”_ Came Jason’s voice from the window.

“Cold and empty?” Talon guessed, popping into the living room to quirk his brows at him. “Devoid of any real human emotion?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jason snorted from where he sat on the window sill. He must have gone up the fire escape. “You really live like this?”

“The Court would have a fit if they knew I owned personal possessions,” Talon rolled his eyes, “But they’re not going to be a problem much longer.”

Jason’s brows quirked.

Talon grinned, but didn’t explain. “What brings you here tonight, bluebird?”

“Bruce wants to see you. It’s Dick’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Is it?” Talon blinked, eyes immediately flicking to the calender on his wall. “... Huh.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “... You gonna be able to fake being him all day? I’m sure Bruce and Al and the boys are eager to actually spend some time with him.”

Chewing his lip, Talon nodded. “I can manage a few hours. Might even wake him up for it.”

Jason didn’t manage to hide the hopeful look on his face as well as he probably thought he did. But, well, Talon wasn’t going to call him on it. Hardly mattered―he knew Jason, inexplicably, missed Dick. So did Bruce, and Alfred, and Damian and Tim. No amount of posturing or attempts to hide it would make it any less the truth.

And Talon was a murderer, and he _loved_ to tease Jason and make him squirm, but he supposed he wasn’t real fond of the idea of making him feel bad for missing someone who may as well be dead. He’d play his emotions, sure, but… Well. Making fun of his emotions just didn’t feel fun. Or right.

He guessed he hadn’t avoided the emotional connection from remembering like he thought he had. It was whatever, though, he could work around it.

And the next morning he approached the Manor on foot.

… They were throwing him a party, and it was so horribly, painfully obvious that even _Talon_ almost sort of felt flattered and embarrassed. But mostly he just felt out of place.

He paused a ways away from the gates to try and get into his head.

When he blinked his eyes open to see the usual darkness and a screen showing the gates to the Manor, he sighed. In relief? Annoyance? He wasn’t sure, even if he was getting better at identifying emotions.

He turned to the lake where he knew Dick still was, waiting in the shallows.

Pulled him out and dragged him to the screen.

“You’re going to help me with this.” He said, stubbornly, “Because I don’t cherish the burden of pretending to be you for the next several hours.”

Dick laughed, tired-sounding. “Okay.”

And having Dick right there, leaned against him in his mind, made things feel weird in the real world. He could distinctly feel that he wasn’t completely in control of his movements. It was like trying to fly a plane with a copilot, he guessed. It would take getting used to.

 _You manage moving, I’ll do the talking,_ Dick uttered. _I can manage while still pretending I don’t remember shit._

Talon agreed, and the feeling sort of settled as he continued up to the gates. They slid open almost as soon as he got there, and suddenly Jason was next to him, putting a hand behind his back and ushering him up toward the doors.

“Please don’t say or do anything stupid, I am _begging_ you. They just―”

“Jay, I _know.”_ Dick said, and Talon added an eye roll for affect. “They want to see me. Talon’s dumb mouth isn’t going to be an issue for a while.”

“... Dick?” Jason stopped, looking at him.

“For now,” Dick replied, tiredly, “I have control of the body’s mouth.”

Jason nodded, slowly, and then went back to ushering them toward the door. “Okay. Okay, cool. Just… Fuck.”

“You’re more nervous about this than we are.” Dick sighed, “And you’re the only one with nothing to lose if I say the wrong shit.”

“I wouldn’t say I have _nothing_ to lose,” Jason sighed in reply, but he did seem to relax just a little bit, “But definitely less than Talon does. And you, I guess.”

“Just relax, Jay, I got this.” Talon figured a nudge was a good movement, “Bruce _literally_ trained me for this.”

Jason huffed, a little, but seemed to decide to listen.

They made it to the front door, and Alfred was already opening it before Jason could even move away to knock.

“Ah, Masters Jason and Dick,” Alfred greeted, smoothly, even though Talon could see how sad he was to see Dick and know he didn’t remember him, “Come right in.”

“Hey Al,” Jason greeted as he ushered him in, “Thanks,”

“Thanks,” Dick echoed softly.

Alfred smiled, and led them off toward the ballroom. Talon didn’t remember much about the Manor, but he remembered the ballroom. It was such a common memory that he couldn’t have skipped over it if he tried. Bruce held a lot of parties there… He guessed it made sense that he’d hold Dick’s birthday party there as well.

He entered, Jason at his side, and Dick made nice with everyone for the next several hours while Talon did his best to make appropriate movements. Something about Dick interacting with them, the way he warmed up over time and gave them such warm, solid emotion was… Talon wasn’t sure he liked it. It made him sick, he thought. Dick felt everything so… Genuinely. So strongly. He felt so much more than Talon did and he knew what every emotion was as it came.

Dick did a good job at pretending he didn’t remember them while also being nice to them, though, he’d give him that.

The immediate gravitation toward Damian was obvious, and Talon saw just as well as Dick did that the kid seemed to preen at that. Tim and Jason mostly seemed amused, thankfully.

Talon caught Tim uttering, to Jason, “Doesn’t even remember the kid and he _still_ moves to protect him and make him feel wanted.”

“Maybe that’s just how Dick is,” Jason had suggested, and there was just a _little_ bit of something not-so-nice under that. A side eye that Talon caught and he didn’t think Dick noticed. “It’s occurring to me that we didn’t really know him very well before, did we?”

Tim had conceded that point, and Talon had suppressed the urge to bolt at that very moment. They were buying Dick’s act and hopefully it would satisfy them enough to leave Talon alone for a while after this. Lord knew he’d need his privacy while he was taking on whoever the Court threw at him.

When the party was finally, _finally_ over, Talon breathed an internal sigh of relief and Bruce had Jason escort him back to his apartment.

“... Still with me, Big Bird?” Jason asked, about halfway there.

And as Talon hadn’t had a chance or actually thought much about putting Dick back in that lake yet, he was.

“Mhm,” Said Dick, “What’s up?”

Jason seemed to hesitate. “I… Talon, can you not listen for a sec? Please?”

The fact he said please threw Talon for enough of a loop that he willingly backed away from the screen in their head and covered his “ears”.

 _“He’s not listening now,”_ Was the last thing he heard said, and it was Dick speaking.

Talon waited there for a while―he wasn’t sure how long. Time didn’t exactly move the same in here… Not all the time, at least. Especially if he couldn’t hear anything and he wasn’t looking at the screen. Which he wasn’t.

He respected Jason’s “please” enough to not invade the moment and end up reading his lips.

And that was all it was. It was _respect._ Nothing more.

Nothing more.

When he finally glanced back at the screen, Dick was in his apartment and seemed to be taking a look around.

He stepped back up to the screen and didn’t try to pry into Dick’s memory of what just happened. He respected Jason.

“Nice place,” Dick acknowledged, out loud.

 _Thanks._ Talon thought at him, a little dryly.

Dick laughed, tired-sounding but still oddly warm. “This what my trust fund is going toward?”

_Pretty much. I’m sure Bruce is monitoring the account, so I pay rent and buy groceries with it._

Dick nodded. Sat down on the couch. Sighed. “Be nice to them, okay? That’s all I ask.”

 _I will be._ Talon sighed, _Regrettably, I respect Jason and I’d rather not alienate Bruce for a laundry list of reasons._

“And Dami and Tim?”

_I don’t hurt children. And… They like you. Even when you “don’t remember” them. Treating them badly knowing that would be hurting them._

Nodding again, Dick sat forward. “Okay. Cool. Guess it’s time to go back, huh?”

_I suppose. I can’t imagine you want to live my life and I have no need for you at the moment._

Dick didn’t contest that.

He stepped back from the screen and let Talon have full control.

Talon stepped back as well―the body would be fine without a driver for a few minutes. He turned to watch Dick, see what he would do. Did he intend to stick around until Talon put him back? Would he go back on his own?

Dick threw him a tired look, waved, and stepped down toward the lake.

“... Stay in the shallows.” Talon requested, even if it came out as more of an order, “In case they need you.”

Dick nodded, laughed a little, and sat down in the water before leaning back and submerging himself without complaint or another word.

Talon watched him a moment, then took back control of the body and put the thoughts aside.

* * *

_“Don’t you dare!” He hissed, fists clenched and teeth grinding, “Don’t even_ **_look_ ** _at him you―”_

_“Then stop resisting.” The old Talon replied, cold and flat and empty. “He will see no harm if you give in and come to the Court.”_

_Anger. That was all he felt. Anger and something so much deeper and older than anger but fundamentally the same. Something sludgy and disgusting that only sparked the anger up more._

_… Protective instinct, perhaps?_

_He wasn’t sure._

_He just knew that the Talon was threatening to take Damian if he didn’t comply, and―_

_Goddammit._

_God_ **_dammit_ ** _he didn’t have a_ **_choice!_ **

_He couldn’t let them hurt Dami._

_He couldn’t._

_He sighed. Closed his eyes and dropped the staff he’d been wielding._

_“Fine.” He said, and felt something break inside of him. “Fine.”_

_He was trained to be a killer anyway. How would being a Talon be any different? It would be just like working for Slade again. Killing who he was ordered to kill, staying hidden, and trying not to be too disgusted with himself for what he had very little choice about doing. If it was for Dami…_

_Well. Really it was better for everyone if he just did this, wasn’t it?_

_He wasn’t the only one who would go ballistic if Dami got hurt._

_Bruce would_ **_lose_ ** _it and so would Tim and Jason. Talia, too, he was sure. And maybe some would say that the lives of many outweighed the life of one, but he loved Dami to pieces. He loved him a_ **_lot_ ** _more than he loved everyone else in this country. And him, individually, killing people that the Court told him to kill? That was a whole different story than the Court hurting Damian and the whole family losing their shit over it._

_“Good.” The Talon said, “Then come with me.”_

_… Still, he couldn’t just… God, he couldn’t just become a killer again. He couldn’t._

_He still had nightmares about the people_ **_Slade_ ** _had him kill. He still felt unstable thinking about it. Still worried that the feeling he got when killing people wasn’t actually fear. Wasn’t actually resentment at Slade for making him do this. That it was something far worse._

_“I have a condition,” He announced, even as he stepped toward the Talon._

_“Oh?”_

_“I don’t want to remember any of this.” He said, “I don’t want to remember who I became after my parents died.”_

_“It would make you a stronger Talon to be without it,” The Talon agreed, “I am sure the Court would be amenable to the suggestion.”_

_“Okay. Cool.”_

* * *

Talon hated those precious few, fleeting moments when Dick’s memories came through unbidden. They always crashed into him. Always made him…  _ Feel. _

And with Dick waiting even closer to the surface than the last time, they were coming with a frequency that Talon despised. He just wasn’t willing to drag Dick out deeper. It wasn’t worth it. Especially not if he ended up needing him for anything, like the family. Not that he thought he would. He’d seen Dick interact with them enough that he could do it himself.

Still.

Not all that long after the party, he ended up facing off against some little brainwashed idiot that the Court sent to collect him. He didn’t bother with mercy―he only avoided making a mess until after he’d spin-kicked them out of his apartment’s living room window and out onto the street below. Seeing as they were clearly human, they didn’t survive the four story drop and ensuing landing on top of a parked car.

He didn’t go after them to clean up.

He just left them for the police to find and continued trying to set himself up to start appearing on the, erm… “Vigilante” scene. The Talon had been against the caped crusaders in Gotham for a long time, since long before Talon himself had been around, so it was going to be  _ so _ fun to start playing the good guy. Or, at least, a  _ sort of _ good guy. More Jason than Bruce, you know? Still willing to kill people because, hey, that was his whole  _ job _ anyway. He was good at it.

Within a couple of weeks, he was in a multiple hero faceoff against Scarecrow and Joker, with Jason on his side and keeping the other heroes from doing anything to him.

He helped out, he fed them all a half-lie about having accidentally broken through the Court’s brainwashing and now wanting to do something better with the training he had, and overall? It went great.

Just sucked that Joker got away.

He could see the angry tenseness in Jason’s shoulders about that.

“Aw, blackbird, did the poacher get away before you could peck his eyes out again?” He asked, half-genuine sympathy and half-desire to irritate.

“Fuck off, Talon,” Jason sighed, and it was clear he was making an effort not to physically lash out.

Talon glanced at the other heroes, one of whom was Bruce, then looked back at Jason. With his helm on no one could see his face, and he was thankful for that. It meant Jason was even more surprised when Talon threw an arm around him, hefted him over his shoulder, and started to walk off.

“What the  _ fuck―” _

“You need to cool off, right? What better way than chasing down a guy who’s not scared of dying?” He sat Jason down, next to Bruce, and continued, “So… I’m gonna take off running that way, and you can chase me down and, fuck it, even shoot at me if you want. Sound good?”

Jason blinked and it was obvious even behind his mask. “I… Sure?”

“Great!” Talon said, then snapped a quick two-fingered salute at Bruce, turned on his heel, and  _ booked it. _

Was it smart? Nope!

Did he care?

Also no.

The fight had been exhilarating, sure, but he couldn’t kill Scarecrow and Joker. He couldn’t even really get up-close with either of them. Jason, though? He could fist-fight Jason for  _ hours. _ And he was willing to bet Jason needed a real fight as much as he did.

He heard someone telling Jason he probably shouldn’t, but Jason was already chasing after him and telling them to suck his dick, he was going to take any opportunity to kick Talon’s ass.

“You  _ just _ vouched for him!” Tim yelled after them. “And now you’re saying you’ll take any opportunity to beat him up?!”

“I said he was on our side, not that I liked him!” Jason yelled back.

Talon just laughed.

Jason chased him through several side-streets and alleyways, up a fire escape, across about seven rooftops, and finally tackled him on the roof of his own apartment building. Talon practically shrieked with laughter at that, rolling out from under the guy and kicking him in the ribs. Jason laughed, too, more startled than anything, and chased him down the fire escape to his living room window.

They fought in the living room for a  _ while. _ Back and forth, pinning each other and kicking, punching, slapping,  _ biting― _ Talon had lost his helm on his way in through the window and didn’t care even a  _ little _ bit and Jason had tossed his mask off in some corner. It was exhilarating, and more than that, it helped him wind down after what was kind of a disappointing prior fight.

The fight ended in him pinning Jason down by his throat and Jason, panting, saying, “Fuck― I give, I give,”

That was probably three hours later, and Talon was reminded that most people couldn’t even fight for more than five minutes without breaks.

He lifted up off of him and offered him a hand, which Jason eagerly took, and he hauled the younger man up off of his hardwood floor. He just hoped none of the neighbors ended up complaining after this… He’d had a lot of fun and he didn’t want that tainted by some bitch on the floor below him complaining about the noise.

“That was…” Jason said, still panting.

“Fun?” Talon suggested.

“Fun,” Jason agreed.

Talon grinned and patted him on the shoulder before hauling him toward the kitchen, and they spent the rest of the night drinking together.

It was comfortable, and now… Well. He could say he felt something other than respect for Jay, because he  _ genuinely _ liked him. It wasn’t  _ Dick _ caring about him. It was just Talon. Talon liked Jay, and he was comfortable with him, and he respected him.

It was a step in what was  _ probably _ the right direction, ultimately.

* * *

Eventually, something had to give.

He couldn’t do the whole “anti-hero” thing forever, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t remember anything forever, either. He knew things,  _ knew _ the brothers who were his but weren’t. He knew the stories they told and he hung around them often enough that it was hard to fake it like he  _ didn’t _ know. So he started sprinkling in memories that he had, started acting like he was getting things back bit by bit.

It was easier than pretending he knew nothing.

Because he didn’t know  _ everything _ but he knew  _ enough. _

And the others, even Bruce, were  _ thrilled _ that he was starting to get things back, and Jason never once acted like it bothered him or he was going to rat Talon out, so… He kept at it. It was better than pretending and it felt better than nothing. He was getting to the point he liked to feel good things.

Still.

Something had to give.

The other shoe had to drop.

And it wasn’t even Talon who slipped up and dropped it.

It was Jason.

Jason, who called him Talon in front of the others.

… And Talon who, unthinkingly, turned to him and hummed in question.

It was like everything stopped right then. Everything went silent and it took Talon a second too long to catch what had happened, to blink in unrestrained terror that he struggled not to show on his face. He glanced around at the others and saw a range of emotions. Bruce was terrifyingly blank.

He had to come up with something, quick.  _ Quick. _

“I get the strangest feeling you didn’t intend to wake me up.” He decided to say, calm as could be and letting his eyes flicker gold, “Because I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

It was an out. Jason could go along with him and pretend and, sure, there’d be questions, but it’d be fine. Talon could come up with  _ something. _

“No, no, you’re right.” Jason said, before any of the others could speak up, “... This is a mess.”

“Doesn’t have to be!” Talon snorted, “Just don’t say anything to Dick and everything’ll be  _ fine.” _

Before any of them, even Jason, could question that, he blinked his eyes back to blue and stared, sort of blankly, past Jason for a second. Blinked again, shook his head, and looked around. Still the same looks, mostly, although Tim seemed to be turning the gears in his head.

“... Did I say something?” Talon asked, the picture of innocence.

“No.” Bruce said, after a long moment, “We just… Thought we heard something.”

And when the visit was over and Jason was escorting him home, like usual, Talon turned them down an alley and pinned him to the dirty ground.

“You almost got me fuckin’  _ caught, _ blackbird.” He hissed, and he didn’t want to admit how much it scared him, “You got any idea what Bruce would have  _ done _ to me if given the chance?”

“He wouldn’t have done anything,” Jason countered, “You’re still Dick, to him―”

“Dick and Bruce fought like cats and dogs, corvid.” He countered right back, “Especially right before Dick got drafted to make me. You think he wouldn’t take my ass right out?”

Jason blinked at him.

Talon breathed in a deep, calming breath. Let go of Jason’s collar and stood up. Glared at him but decided to let it go. He liked Jason. Killing him on accident because he compromised his identity was out of the question. And killing him would make him a liar, and he hated lying to himself. Other people, not so much.

Himself, though.

Jason slowly picked himself up off the ground. “... Before he was drafted?”

Sighing, Talon followed the new line of discussion. Better than stewing. “The Court sent the old Talon after him. Coerced him into making me.”

“... Do I want to know how?”

“Threatened the littlest songbird,” Talon shrugged, “And Dick figured he wasn’t the only one who’d lose his shit if the kid got hurt. Decided everyone would be better off with me than with a hurt Damian, because a hurt Damian would unleash him and who know how many other overly pissed off folks off into the streets.”

“And at least  _ you _ would only kill who you were told to kill.” Jason guessed.

“Yep. Pretty much.” Talon sighed again, heading out of the alley and back toward his apartment, knowing that Jason would be right on his heels. “ _ Preeeetty _ sure this isn’t the outcome he was banking on, but what was he expecting? I’m him without the character development.”

“Character development is a hell of a way to say years of trauma and attempting to cope, but I can dig it.”

Talon laughed a little, opening his front door and motioning Jason in, “At least I get the chance to get some character development of my own… With or without the actual trauma.”

“Is it bad that I think you’re going to turn out better than he did?”

“No, simply realistic.”

* * *

If the Court was trying to get him to come back, they weren’t trying very hard at all.

After that single little mind-controlled idiot, there hadn’t been anyone trying to collect him. He guessed they were probably training a new Talon since he was a lost cause, and he didn’t rightly care. It was just something he would have to take up with Raven when he got the chance. He did sort of subscribe to Jason’s mentality of only killing on a case-by-case basis, so killing off someone who didn’t know what they were doing and didn’t have any amount of control over it seemed somewhat ill-advised. Or maybe it just seemed overly cruel.

He  _ was, _ after all, developing a bit of a conscience.

Not as strong as Dick’s certainly, but more than he’d had six months ago, when he’d started being a person instead of a weapon.

So, yeah. Letting Raven deal with them and then dealing with them personally if he needed to would work out better for him.

In the meantime, the whole anti-heroing thing was working out surprisingly well for him! He teamed up with Jason more often than not, and what solo missions he went on were generally successful. He’d even garnered a reputation with the other heroes and the villains in the city as something of a wild card because they didn’t understand his exact parameters for deciding to kill someone.

Jason did, though.

So that was always helpful.

And, it stood to reason that, eventually, building up a good enough reputation in Gotham would mean that word would spread to other towns, and when he happened to take a day trip to Jump City for a change of scenery, he ran into Raven. He hadn’t seen her since that last time at the beginning, and she seemed…

Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, to see him.

“Talon,” She greeted, when she saw him at that very same cafe they’d seen each other last time.

“Hello, darling corvid.” He greeted in return, “Care for a drink? I’ll pay.”

Looking a little bewildered, she said, “Oh, sure. Thank you.”

“Of course,” He smiled, waved down a server (because this was a rather fancy cafe, and it  _ had _ those), and let Raven order.

“... So do I  _ want _ to know what you’re doing in Jump City?” She finally asked.

“Day trip,” He answered honestly, “Just needed to get out of Gotham for a while. Can only handle so much smog before it gets tired.”

“And you’re not here to kill anyone?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“That depends on if I get into a fight with anyone.” He shrugged, “And whether or not I feel they really need to die rather than simply getting the shit kicked out of them.”

“And you plan to determine that… How?”

“A lot like Jason does, really. We team up from time to time. Lots of fun.”

Raven seemed to consider that, then slowly nodded and sighed.

He sipped at his own drink.

Raven’s arrived and they sat in silence for a while. Eventually got to talking and lo and behold the other little corvid started to take a shine to him, too.

* * *

He finally,  _ finally _ slipped a month after that, in front of Bruce.

He was sitting on the table, laughing away at something Tim had said, and he’d realized a second too late after catching sight of his face in the table’s expertly polished surface that he’d let his eyes flicker back to gold from Dick’s blue. Tim wasn’t facing him, didn’t see. But Bruce and Jason were looking right at him.

He grinned, a little sheepish, raised a finger to his lip, and consciously changed them back to blue.

Bruce’s face was unreadable.

Before he left, Bruce cornered him.

“Talon?” He asked, as if making sure.

Caught, Talon raised his hands in surrender and made an effort to look a little abashed, letting his eyes settle back to gold. “Hi there, Mr. Wayne.” He said, “Lovely place ya got here.”

The whole time that he’d been playing as Dick, not once had any of the others brought up anything vigilante related. He made sure not to either. It wasn’t something any of them needed to know he remembered, and it seemed to be something they didn’t want him getting involved in again. Poor fuckers probably thought that that was how he’d disappeared.

But no.

Still. It was going to be interesting to work through this.

“I. You are a murderer.” Bruce finally said after another long moment, “Wearing the skin of my oldest son.”

“I certainly am,” Talon acknowledged, “And had you not adopted him when you did I never would have had to exist. He would have become the Court’s Talon all on his own. He was next in line, you know.”

“Are you blaming me?”

“No, not at all, Mr. Wayne. I’m  _ thanking _ you.” He smiled, hands still up, “I do very much enjoy existing. And it’s for the best that Dick never has to see what I do.”

“Is that why he’s…” Bruce’s face seemed to fall a little.

“They tried to pack him away to make room for me. That included most of his memories after the Circus.” Talon didn’t mind explaining it―it was better than lying, frankly, and since Bruce (as Batman, at least) almost seemed to  _ like _ him it was safe to tell the truth now, “But Raven woke him up and it fucked  _ everything _ up.”

“So you do all the vigilante work, I suppose? Never him?”

“He’s only ever awake when dealing with you, really.” Not a lie, but not necessarily true, “Easier since he feels more of a connection to all of you than I’ve managed to make.” He smiled again, stepping backwards toward the door, “He’s just very tired, you see. So I was here today instead.”

“Tired?”

“That sort of soul-deep exhaustion you only get from dealing with a whole lot of bullshit, I’m afraid. Poor thing doesn’t even remember everything and yet something seems to just eat away at his energy. Worst kind of trauma, really―the type you don’t remember but always chips away at you.”

He grabbed the doorknob, turning it.

Bruce stepped toward him.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have work tonight.”

He stepped backwards out the door, turned on his heel, and speed-walked toward the gates.

* * *

“So, little songbird,” Talon almost winced as soon as the endearment left his mouth because he was  _ supposed _ to be playing Dick, “How does this work?”

“Songbird?” Tim questioned, brows furrowing.

“Oh, I thought I heard Jason call you a robin,” He explained it away as quickly as he could, “And all my brain could come up with as a clever related nickname was songbird.”

Tim looked troubled, but seemed to shake it away to explain what he’d asked about.

Internally, Talon kicked himself.

* * *

“Talon.” Bruce hissed.

“Awww, what gave me away?” Talon grinned at him, sheepishly, “I thought I was doing a pretty good impression of Dick.”

His brothers shifted uncomfortably, all looking equally distressed at the sudden change in mood. Everything had been going so well…

Talon very much mourned the loss of what had otherwise, so far, been a perfectly respectable Thursday morning. Now everything was going to have to be  _ complicated. _

And poor Damian and Tim were going to look back on what had been a fun morning and hate it because it wasn’t  _ really _ their big brother they were spending it with.

Damn Bruce.

Damn him to hell.

“That’s the thing. It always seems to be you lately.” Bruce said in response to his question, voice almost dangerous.

Talon fought not to grin nervously or shrink in on himself. Bruce would not rattle him. He wouldn’t let himself show any sort of weakness or fear in front of him. Showing weakness to Bruce would be like jumping into shark territory with an open wound―he might not  _ die, _ but it would  _ suck. _

“Well, yes.” Talon chose to say, instead, “I told you, Bruce, he’s tired.”

“Tired enough to warrant it always being you on what are supposed to be family days?”

“I don’t quite appreciate your tone, Bruce.” Talon replied, frowning and lifting his brows, “Or the implication that he’s somehow not allowed to be tired. Or, god forbid, that I’ve  _ done _ something to him. Because that  _ is _ what you’re implying, isn’t it? That he’s not here anymore, or I’m keeping him held down?”

“I’m not sure  _ what _ is going on.” Bruce said, succinctly.

Talon was starting to remember exactly why Dick and Bruce hadn’t really gotten along. And part of the reason why Dick had always been so tired before becoming him. Constant fights really chip away at you.

“Then perhaps you should stop thinking like a  _ detective _ and think like a father, hm? Implying he can’t be tired and stay ducked out on family days is a  _ very _ emotionally repressed way to go about it. Surely you of  _ all _ people know what he’s gone through. Certainly more than  _ I _ know about it. So surely you, of all people, should understand how those things just eat at you and tear through all of your energy.”

It was a tense conversation after that, to say the least, and Bruce really didn’t seem to be liking Talon too much after it was over. Talon was fine with that, he guessed. He didn’t need Bruce to like him, he just needed Bruce to let him keep Dick’s trust fund.

… He ignored the aching in his chest that pulsed painfully when Bruce didn’t even look at him when he headed out. It wasn’t important.

“... So you’re really not holding him out of the way?” Jason asked, when they were almost to Talon’s apartment.

“Hm?” Talon glanced at him, and when his brain caught up to him he said, “Oh, Dick? No, not exactly. He’s pretty close to the controls, honestly. Just sleeping and waiting for me to pull him back up. But, I mean, he really  _ is _ tired as balls all the time. I prefer to just let him sleep for a lot of reasons.”

“You’re not actively holding him down, but you do need to be the one to get him… Like… Up to the controls.” Jason said, as if trying to wrap his brain around it.

“My mind is… Very literal in a lot of ways,” Talon shrugged, “I think from all the meditating that Dick did with Raven―there’s a tangible place and landscape. Right now he’s in the subconscious with most of his memories, and that’s where he always is unless I step away from the screen to pull him out.”

Jason slowly nodded.

Talon just unlocked his door and motioned Jason in for their usual post-Manor visit beer.

* * *

After all the slipups he’d had recently, it stood to reason he’d fuck up in a fight as well.

Thankfully, he didn’t get himself or anyone that he liked hurt or jeopardize anyone’s identities, but he did accidentally almost kill the guy he was going up against. Just slipped mentally for a second, forgot to hold himself back appropriately, and got control of himself only seconds before placing a killing blow. Pulled back and let Jason pop the guy with a rubber bullet while he turned toward someone else.

He didn’t expect the knowledge that he’d almost  _ accidentally _ gone with his instinct and killed someone to be distressing.

But it was.

He shook the distress off and got back to work, and later he and Jason teamed up to go and take out a drug-trafficker because Talon  _ really _ needed an excuse to stab someone to death. And, hey, the drug-trafficker was  _ also _ doing some other unsavory bullshit so!

Open season.

Jason let him go after the main guy while he chased down his operatives. Seemed to understand that Talon wasn’t going to be much help with rounding people up if he wasn’t going to be able to kill them. And, by the end of it, Jason didn’t even seem disturbed by the fact that he’d strung the drug trafficker up by his arms and slit his throat. And stabbed him about 37 times.

He just shrugged it off and Talon really,  _ really _ appreciated that.

“Y’know, I seem to recall calling you a serial killer early on.” Jason said, later, when they were drinking on Talon’s roof.

“You did,” Talon acknowledged, “And I told you you weren’t wrong.”

“I can’t tell if you’re getting better, or if you’re getting worse, honestly,” Was how Jason chose to follow that, “You go a while without killing anybody and it’s like your brain gets switched to ultra violence mode.”

“I was made to kill people.” Talon shrugged. “It’s what I do. My programming goes a little fucky if I don’t do what I’m supposed to for longer than a regular amount of time between marks.” He snorted, “Say what you will about the Court, but they made sure I’d be good at this―even gave me a built-in ‘I must be doing something wrong if no one has died in x amount of time’ instinct.”

“That’s not a good thing,” Jason pointed out, eyebrow cocked.

“Never said it was.” Talon merely shrugged again, “I’m just pointing it out in response to your observation.”

Jason hummed, and Talon took a swig of beer.

“Y’know, Dick was a harder drinker than I am,” He finally mused, “He hated beer. Always went for hard liquor… And, sure, he usually picked some fruity hard liquor, but considering the guy could pound vodka cranberries like it was nobody’s business and still fight if he needed to afterward…”

“He always struck me as the weak martini type,” Jason hummed, “But I can see him going for vodka cranberries and screwdrivers too.”

Talon chuckled. “... He once got into a drinking contest with Beast Boy. Drank the guy under the table in an hour.”

Jason whistled, brows lifted and lips starting to head in that direction as well.

* * *

“Robin, we need to book. Like.  _ Now. _ ” Jason hissed, and Damian threw a rather freaked-out look in Talon’s direction, because apparently now even  _ he _ could tell when Talon was pretending to be Dick… At least some of the time.

“Relax, little songbird, I already know,” Talon chose to say, “But blackbird is right, we need to  _ move.” _

That seemed to be enough for Damian, even if he still seemed a little nervous, and the three of them took off down a side street. Damian was a fast runner, but his legs were considerably shorter than Talon’s, and… Well. Talon picked him up without thinking about it and he and Jason hoofed it as fast as they could through the alleys.

This was a hell of a situation to be in.

Talon hadn’t ever had to be around the bat-family boys when there was a tragedy about to happen while they were out of costume. He couldn’t recall any occasions as Dick, either, but that might just be because Dick was still under the surface of the lake. Still, knowing they needed to get well out of the way before they got caught, and hopefully get into costume in time to help, was a little weird.

“My apartment,” He said, to Jason, while Damian was still astonishingly quiet about being carried, “Can change there.”

Jason only nodded, and they kept on hoofing it to the building.

Just had to get changed and get back to the scene.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

Bruce stopped being so up-tight around him not long after that, and without much fanfare Talon started calling him Bats instead. He hated calling him Bruce. It didn’t feel right. And Bruce seemed annoyed, but overall amused with the constant nick-naming.

And they all seemed to start to think of him as another older brother, instead of someone walking around looking like Dick.

It was weird.

When he’d broken off from the Court, he hadn’t actually expected to end up having a normal life. Least of all a family, and Dick’s family to boot. Sure, he’d sort of expected to eventually run into them or have some contact with them, but… They knew him, sort of, and they only treated him like he was Dick when he acted convincingly enough like Dick. Jason, of course, only did that to keep up appearances. But it hardly mattered―Jason especially seemed pretty fond of him.

And Damian… Although it was clear that Damian was missing Dick something fierce, and Talon tried to pull off a flawless Dick impression as often as was possible to let him feel a little better.

Because, strangely enough, he liked the little fucker.

He liked all of them, and not as Dick. He liked them because of some of the memories that he had from Dick, sure, but mostly it was just him. Just his own thoughts and feelings that made him like his family. The family he’d always expected to only be Dick’s.

He’d had  _ nothing _ when he broke away from the Court. Nothing tangible, at least―just several people who thought he was Dick and were being nice to him because of it.

And now he had a  _ family. _

* * *

“... Dick’s still  _ really _ not coming back, huh?” Jason asked, laying on Talon’s couch with his legs thrown over Talon’s lap.

It was casual, not upset at all or really even all that probing. Just a question. Pure curiosity.

Except it wasn’t, and Talon knew that.

He knew Jason… Better than Dick had, at least.

“Unless he’s miraculously less tired now, probably not.” Talon said, just as casual.

“You wouldn’t know though, would you?”

“I haven’t tried to wake him up, no.”

A silence.

Talon tried not to let it bother him that Jason was bringing this up. Jason may very well think of him as another big brother, but there would always be part of him that just wanted Dick. That was reasonable. Talon didn’t blame him and he really shouldn’t even be upset. Jason had every right to want his real brother back.

It was a nasty thing to think, though.

His ‘real’ brother.

Like Talon was nothing.

… Not that he thought that Jason thought that, it was―he always sort of felt fake when someone brought Dick up, lately. Like he wasn’t anything. He was just an imposter. Just someone walking around in Dick’s skin.

“Do you actually know why he’s so tired?” Jason finally asked.

“Not for sure,” Talon sighed, “I know it’s a culmination of a lot of things. Just something that happened after everything.”

Jason nodded.

“... If he does come back,” Talon sighed again, “You will be the first one to know.”

“Of course I will be. I’ll be the first one to notice it’s not your smug ass.” Jason shot him a lop-sided grin and tapped his stomach with his foot.

Talon couldn’t help rolling his eyes and smiling in return.

* * *

He pulled Dick up out of the water later that very night and sort of sat down at the edge of the lake. Dick seemed confused, but really more tired than anything else.

“They want you back,” Talon said, by way of explanation.

“I’m sure they do,” Dick sighed, sitting down next to him, “But I can’t…”

“I don’t work for the Court anymore.” Talon told him, “I broke off. They haven’t even tried to get me back. I only kill people on the same terms that Jason does. You’d never have to do it yourself.”

“... Talon,” Dick sighed again.

“I won’t  _ make _ you go back to them. I don’t really want you to,” Talon stared into the water, “But they want you.”

“And you want them.” Dick said, “And I…”

“Want them without any of the extra attached shit.” Talon guessed.

“... Yeah.”

“So we do what I told them we’ve been doing,” Talon sat up a little, “You hang out with them on family days, or at least  _ some _ family days, and I handle the other stuff.”

Dick seemed to consider it.

Finally, he sort of slowly nodded.

* * *

Talon didn’t go to sleep when Dick was in control, and Dick didn’t ever try to make him. He just sat next to the screen and listened and watched.

Jason almost immediately noticed that it was actually Dick the first time, a couple of days later, and Talon still felt the bone-crushing hug that they shared.

And yeah, it kind of sucked. Talon didn’t like sharing them, but Dick was there first. They were  _ Dick’s _ before they were his. They deserved Dick, and he deserved to have them too. Talon would just have to deal and stop being such a baby about it. They weren’t his property, or Dick’s property.

Still.

It sucked.

And Dick knew that he felt that way, because Dick just…  _ Knew. _

_ “You know, you never had to wake me up,” _ He thought at him, while he walked in companionable silence with Bruce.  _ “You could have kept on the way you were.” _

Talon scoffed. Turned away from the screen and from Dick.

“They want  _ you. _ ” He said, a little too bitterly, “And me too, sometimes, but mostly you.”

Dick seemed to accept that.

* * *

Talon didn’t know what was going on, exactly, but he blamed that on the throbbing in his head.

His… Weirdly empty head.

He sat bolt upright and the situation came rushing back to him. The threat of a fight, the weird weapon the villain was holding. He’d aimed at Jason and Talon had seen it before Jason did. He’d shoved him out of the way as fast as he could―there was no way of knowing what that weapon did. And neither of them were in-costume so it was even more dangerous for Jason to get hit. It’d be  _ very _ weird and upsetting for the other folks around to have to watch him get up even if he had a hole in his guts.

Not that there were very many. It was a fairly deserted part of town, really. Odd place for a villain to decide they were going to showcase their new terrifying weapon.

But he’d slammed into Jason, shoulder to his chest, and Jason had gone sprawling mostly from the surprise, and then…

He looked around.

And saw himself looking back at him a little ways away.

“What the  _ fuck,” _ He and the other him said at the same time, equally thrown off.

Then it hit him.

His head felt  _ empty. _

That was  _ Dick _ he was looking at.

He scrambled to his feet and crossed to him to help him up and Dick accepted the help without any questions or complaints.

“Dick?” He uttered.

“Talon?” He got in return.

“Fuck,” Said Talon.

“Holy  _ shit,” _ Said Jason, who was still on the ground a little ways away.

“It  _ worked!” _ Cried the villain.

And this was  _ weird as hell, _ but they had bigger fish to fry. Or, rather, they would have, had Bruce not shown up at that exact moment with Damian and Tim and taken the guy out on their own.

But then there was the awkwardness of having to explain what had happened. Talon was more than willing to admit he’d been a dumbass and had jumped in to get Jason out of the way. He’d expected to have a little more time to get out of the way, himself, but knew for sure he didn’t have enough time to just tell Jason to duck. Because that required processing time on Jason’s part, and he was quick-witted but the precious few seconds of processing and internally questioning it would have been too many.

“Probably for the best,” Jason said, in reference to Talon getting hit instead, “Since I have no clue what that would have done to me considering I’m not running around with an AU of myself in my head for that thing to split off.”

“An AU?” Dick asked, brows lifting.

“Inside joke,” Talon shrugged, “I said I was you without the character development once.”

Dick could only roll his eyes and utter, “Oh my  _ God.” _

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to adjust to life after separating from Dick. They shared an apartment and bank accounts, Dick did his own business most of the time and Talon did his, and family days were  _ really _ interesting but really fun with both of them around. Talon was pleasantly surprised when there were almost equal amounts of excitement at seeing both of them from Damian and Tim.

And, free to banter out loud with Dick  _ and _ Jason, Talon did a lot more talking and quipping than before. He had two people he could pull off witty back and forth with without worrying about slipping up about anything and it was  _ great. _

Everything felt… Great.

And Talon really didn’t have any complaints, especially once the new of it all started to rub off and he and Dick started actually hanging out. It was like having a really annoying twin brother, really, and both of them sort of lived for it. Then Dick started taking control of decorating the apartment, and Talon took up a few mercenary jobs here and there for the pocket money, and Jason hung around often enough that it was never boring. Raven started showing up too.

Talon had zero complaints about how his life had turned out.

He still didn’t know much about himself, because there wasn’t a whole lot of him to know about.

He guessed he’d just have to work on that part.


End file.
